The Great Evil
by 5Daimyo
Summary: Man's greatest atrocity at work.


Man is the only animal that deals in that atrocity of atrocities, War. He is the only one that gathers his brethren about him and goes forth in cold blood and calm pulse to exterminate his kind. He is the only animal that for sordid wages will march out... and help to slaughter strangers of his own species who have done him no harm and with whom he has no quarrel... And in the intervals between campaigns he washes the blood off his hands and works for "the universal brotherhood of man" - with his mouth. Mark Twain

Tony was barely twelve when he last saw his brother. A far away figure in his life, the brother almost ceased to exist within the expanse of Tony's memories. At times Tony found himself having trouble remembering his name - and, sometimes scaring him, sometimes lulling him into other thoughts, Tony could not remember his brother's face either. It was most frightening when he was recalling a memory, something fond to his heart and tickling of his belly. When, if he could just put his brother's face into the picture, the memory would be complete.

Other times Tony got angry, often tossing rocks or splintering sticks in frustration at his lack of ability to recall a face. He knew the features were simple: a nose, mouth, ears, eyes etc. Yet, there was some sort of unknown complexity to it all, and the young boy was most often stumped, and so many a branch and many a stone received the brunt of his failings.

On this weekend, though, Tony was to find a new face with which to fill his memories. Her name was Mayla, and it being nine months since Tony had seen his brother go, Mayla could not have come at a better time.

Tony sat on the sidewalk, watching passerby-pedestrians and malevolent-motorists. A girl skipped past him, stopped, turned, and started back at the boy. The edges of his sight could see the figure - a blob of pink with wily and playful arms that hinted at a youthful curiosity.

"Do you want to play?" She asked, bouncing on her feet and crossing her wrists. The city suddenly arose with mechanical laughter as one of the factories went into full-gear. Tony pushed into his ears with a hand, then asked loudly, "What?" The girl jumped down to her knees and laid out two sticks, "Want to play?" She asked once more. For a second, Tony thought of using the cacophony from the factories to counter her request, that he had no idea what she was saying, and that he would then no longer care.

But she was so steady and firm in her voice that such a claim of denial was impossible. It was strange, Tony could not pull himself away. What else was he going to do anyway? Piddle on the sidewalk some more? There came the prospect of a stranger giving him gum (as was the occasional scenario for the young lad) or some other candy, but who knows? Today was too fast, too busy. The adults appeared to not have enough time to stop and accommodate the wants of a bored boy.

Tony stood up and loudly boasted, "Okay. I will play." He put his hands on his hips and stared about with a false concern of the city's grown inhabitants.. The girl countered, "Follow me. I know a good spot." Losing dominance, Tony caught the girl as she turned away, "What is your name?"

"Madeline, but everyone calls me Mayla. You?"

"Tony, and everyone calls me Tony."

She found this to be hysterical, and the two laughed their way onto Mayla's 'good spot'.

Dodging their way to the outskirts of the city, the two came upon an abandoned quarry -- which in itself amounted to nothing but a steep and abrubt hole in the ground. Tony stopped at the railing that led the way to the quarry's bottom and looked down. At least a hundred feet deep, if not more!, he thought fancifully and fearfully as an intense rupture of illness overcame him. He turned away, watching as his vision turned into a vast and visceral visual of vagrant valleys thanks to vertigo the vivacious and vogue vampire of vicarious voluptuousness.

Tony felt sick.

"What are you, scared?" She prodded.

"No. Maybe. I don't know, I don't like heights." He held his stomach as his vision cooled down.

"If you didn't know, you wouldn't be scared," Mayla commented, then turned to the stairway that ringed the quarry all the way to its flooring. The stairs were rusted metal, and creaked loudly at the first step, a moan carried eerily down the quarry.

Except Tony did know of his fear and explained so dutifully, "A few years ago I was climbing up a large wind-mill. One of the metal rungs broke and I hung stories-in-the-air for minutes before my brother finally saved me. Ever since I have had trouble…" He peeked down the quarry once more. A curious Mayla hung around on the third step, tossing her body to and away from the railing playfully, but listening. Tony continued, "…With heights… but this… this aint so bad, I guess." He took his first step.

Mayla stopped him and lowered her voice, "If you don't wanna go we don't have to." Tony took a brief glance over the railing, not even looking all the way down, then looked to Mayla. She gave him a look of reassurance, and Tony felt confident even through his embarrassment, "I… really don't want to."

The girl smiled, ran up to the boy, and took his hand. She led him away from the quarry and into a field of barley nearby. Mayla stopped amongst the yellow stalks and let go of Tony's hand so she could fully caress the waves of gold. The wheat coolly adapted to her touch, easily flowing beneath it and over it. Soon, Tony found himself doing the same, laying his arms into the ticklish stuff.

"It feels funny," he commented, retracting his hand at the first touch, then lowering it again.

"Almost like the legs of a bug!" Mayla exclaimed, and they both began to giggle as the wheat wisped about them. The two trekked through the yellow-field, taking after a distant green pasture.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Tony asked, coasting his hands over the grains.

"Nope. No parents, either."

Tony raised his voice, "No parents?"

"Nope, live with my grandma. But she's away to Birhming and so I'm staying with the neighbors for awhile. I hate them."

"Why do you hate them?"

"Just because! I mean, they always get up early! School is a short walk away yet I'm moping around the house an hour before I even have to go! They're just so - cheeky."

Tony laughed, "Cheeky?"

"Yeah, cheeky," Mayla said, grinning smugly at her own description. She continued, "And they go to church, too! Three days out of the week!"

"Jeez!" Tony gasped at the thought. Only his dad went to church, his mother used to, but she stopped sometime ago. Tony couldn't remember why.

"Augh!" Mayla cried aloud, "It's so boring! I hate it. Well, not really. But you know, it is boring."

Tony had been to church a few times, and it was in fact rather boring. He remembered using the stock pencils they had laying about the pews to write messages in the books. He would write about the day or one time about the school play he had participated in (Tony's father commented on the boy, who had taken the role of the 'Onion', that, "Well, everyone knows you can't get good wine from a turnip." To which his mother scolded him; but Tony didn't get it).

"Yeah, church can be a real bore," Tony said as they bumbled past the reaches of the barley and into the greenness of a grassy pasture. A ways-away lay a farm-house, bordered by rising hills and clips of trees. Tony spotted three apple-trees making up a very minute orchid, if there ever was such a thing. Tony looked at them a little while longer. The thought of theft dangled in his mind.

"I know what you're thinking!" Mayla laughed aloud. Tony smiled and put his hands on his hips, "Hey! You know you want to, too!"

The girl slimmed her eyes, looking at first to Tony, then to the unpicked apples, the fruits' innonence proliferated by their small, distant, appearance.

She confessed, "Okay, yeah, maybe I do. But that doesn't make it right!" Which was true. Just because someone agrees with you doesn't automatically make it right - but the decision becomes easier to make, that is for sure. They bound towards the trees, keeping low, sometimes crawling if need-be (sounds that could lead to detection, often emitting from irrelevant bugs or a snapped-twig, would send them sprawling to the ground in fright).

The trees grew in their eyes, taking on sizes much larger than their immature perusal had seen before. The apples, once little specks in the distance, took shape of bright-red splotches splattered across the brown canvas that was the collective trees themselves. Their outstanding appearance made them all the more delectable.

The two kids took to a grassy mound just outside the trees - perhaps ten yards away - and went on the lookout.

"See anyone?" Mayla asked. Tony shook his head, "No, no I don't see a soul." A jet startled the thief-like ambience with a slow and raucous travel from its wayward heights, coasting over the girl and boy like a detached commentator. Tony crawled to the peak of the hill, slowly got up as he descended the other side, then immediately ran to one of the trees. He banged into it with a tenacious, albeit clumsy, ferocity. Mayla soon followed, being a little more nimble than Tony in her approach.

"I can't climb up. Here," Tony lowered one of his hands and Mayla planted a foot in it. While Tony lifted her up he looked about him to make sure no one was around to catch them in medias res. The farm-house was not far away and three of its windows looked directly at the mischievous duo. Mayla folded her shirt out to create a make-shift basket, and then went about plopping almost a dozen apples into it.

"I can't carry anymore," Mayla said, and so Tony slowly let her down. The two, hearts beating furiously, made their way back to the little hill. They couldn't top it fast enough and their anxiety tripped them up, toppling the two down the other side. Their bounty was lost in a land-slide of red. The two laughed nervously, before picking up only half of their fruits and taking off. They never stopped until reaching the quarry - and starting from the barley-field they could not hold back their laughter and amusement of it all. By the time the quarry was nearby they were choking on their breaths, gasping for air so they could laugh some more.

The simple fact that they had gotten away with it was just too great. Even though the farmer might have easily just given them a handful of apples, taking without asking was of a much greater emotional reward, as twisted as that may be.

With apple cores lying about the city streets trailing all the way back to the abandoned quarry, the two came to a sidewalk apple-less. The sun was setting over the distant hills, splashing rays of divided light between the high-rises and jagged cityscape.

Tony licked his fingers, then smothered his hands into his shirt. They had gotten sticky from all the apple residue. Mayla looked behind her, then back to Tony. She said tiredly, "I probably have to go. My care-takers haven't seen me all day. I bet they're worried… though I don't care."

Tony nodded, "Me too. Though, I think my parents care." He gave an awkward smile. Mayla happily returned the gesture before setting off. Tony quickly stopped her, shouting, "Hey, tomorrow…?"

Mayla twisted around, interrupting Tony in a fervor, "I'll see you tomorrow! Here? Or where we first met?" Tony stood aback, somewhat rushed, then responded, "Where we first met." Mayla grinned, waved, then turned around again. Tony watched her go, and as the distance between them grew, she began to skip. The boy smiled, then turned to return to his own home.

------

Over the next two months the two's relationship grew like a popping daisy. Seeing each other every day, the two danced and played through the maze-like intricacies of the city and, as the concrete and pavements were explored to their fullest, further and further away from it. People throughout took notice of their constant bind, jokingly saying a marriage would be at hand.

Although love and happiness was in the air, something dark was brooding. Police men were becoming less of a repetitive picture in the city, replaced instead by a constant flow of armored troop. Tony took a bit of notice, asking his parents why the big men were all over. His dad explained a conflict was going on and his mom fell silent. To this Tony wondered if his brother would return to join the forces shielding the city from this distant 'conflict'. But he did not ask his parents of this, keeping it to himself and feeling all the more wise for doing so.

Mayla did not ask her guardians (who still resided over her, with her grandma still in far-away Birhming), instead keeping to her actions of staying rather distant from the 'family'. With a turned-face on her guardians, she often came to Tony for information, who now sat next to her on a sidewalk. Together they watched the apprehensive flow of the city.

A heavy-set man decked in thumping and grinding armor waddled past. Mayla eyed the man, then bent her head low to Tony, "Why are they here? I saw Joe in one of those uniforms the other day." Joe was a police-officer who often patrolled the areas Mayla and Tony frolicked about.

Tony flicked an emptied candy-wrapper out of his hand and patted his legs in boredom, "My parents say there's a war going on… but that's all they ever tell me. A war is going on -- and that's it."

"And about Joe…?" Mayla inquired.

"Joe signed up for the army, or something." Tony took the candy out of his mouth, turned it in his fingers, then popped it back in. "I'm hoping my brother will return." Tony's eyes now fixated on a soldier, gun wheeled over his shoulder, walking about an open market. People went about their daily routines rather normally, the soldiers were more like walking lamp-posts than anything. Just another thing to go around.

There came a loud shout from down the street. Tony and Mayla stood up together and took a step back onto the sidewalk. A man scrambled into the street, fell, then got back up. He held a sign plastered in red paint. Tony squinted to read the lettering but before he could two soldiers tackled the man to the ground, put his arms behind his back, and shackled him. They dragged him to his feet then led him away. The sign still lay on the ground.

"C'mon," Tony said, grabbing Mayla's hand and approaching the sign from the sidewalk. They idled their way up, parallel to the marker, then dashed into the street to snatch it. The sign was turned over. Tony began to reach down to flip it over when a cry of warning came from the sidewalk. Tony yelled innocent curiosity, and Mayla backed him with her own. The pedestrians' interest in the kids died down and grumbled away. Tony flipped the sign as the watchful eyes of soldiers bore down on him.

It read:

"Fight the rich, not their wars!"

Tony lowered his eyes to see if there was more. Mayla bent in over his shoulder, "I don't get it." The boy shook his head, but continued to hold the sign in his hands.

"Put that down, son," a voice from behind. Tony, shaken out of his idle deciphering, dropped the sign to the ground. The two turned around immediately and faced one of the many soldiers that patrolled the street. His face was rough, a slight scar leaving a tarnished appearance underneath the stubble and ruggedness. Another man stood behind him.

"Wilkins," the forward said, detachedly. The man from behind stepped up, came over Mayla and Tony, and retrieved the sign. He retreated back behind the unshaven man, who now took the sign and investigated it. Within a second he snapped it in two and then handed the remains to Wilkins.

"Such public acts are not tolerated, and punishment will be due immediately. Remember this, and remember there is no reason for it to happen in the first place." The man turned and walked away, Wilkins on his tail. Tony and Mayla scuttled out of the street and took to the opening of an alley. Heart pounding, the girl asked, "Why would he do that?" Tony shook his head, "I have no idea. Everybody's becoming up-tight around here."

"Assholes," Mayla said aloud. Tony lifted an eyebrow, almost gasping, and then barked into laughter. There came a feeling of doing something wrong, but it passed quickly and in its place stood a little rebelliousness. The two rode off to the quarry and to see how many, if any, apples remained in the old farmer's pitiful orchid.

------

"Still…?" Mayla quipped at Tony's fear as he stood at the edge of the quarry. The boy nodded, "Yeah. I can take a few steps down, but not today."

Mayla broke away from the quarry-steps, "That's okay -- you're making progress, work on it tomorrow?" Tony nodded. Mayla smiled and took his hand, "Let's go to the orchid." They ran away from the quarry, as if fleeing from its very depths, and past the barley-field. The feeling of the grains had grown old and stale, and now they were nothing more than a bore and an itch. The two spent little time in the field and were quickly upon the orchid.

But something stopped them.

Tony ducked down at the hill the two had first crested months ago.

"What is it?" Mayla whispered, coming up from behind. Tony put a finger to his mouth, giving a 'Shhh'. Mayla crawled up the hill and peered over. The farmer was away from his house being held by men in tight, black suits. They had weird gadgets all over, namely around the waist, and some very peculiar head-gear.

They were also carrying rifles.

Mayla gasped and fell into Tony. Together their hearts pounded each other like those scheduled for twelve. "Stay quiet," Tony said slowly while his eyes tried to evaluate what was going on. The men had no insignia. Tony had memorized all the insignia's from the town, but these men had no such sign of definition.

The men-in-black taped the farmer's mouth shut and tossed him to the ground. One of the men bent an arm to his shoulder and then leaned his head to it. There was the sound and movement of speaking, but Tony could not pick up on any of it. Then the radio-man broke away from his shoulder, nodded to one of his comrades, and turned away.

That's when the farmer jolted and came to the ground.

Tony closed his eyes, grabbed Mayla by the mouth, feeling her screams sweat into his palm, and rolled back down the hill. The two crashed into the flat ground and separated. Tony's knee crashed into a rock and he cried aloud. Almost immediately he covered his mouth and looked ahead of him to Mayla. Panting, she locked eyes with Tony for a moment, then got up and dashed towards the wheat-field. Tony took after.

The boy caught up with the girl just as they reached the barley, grabbed her by the shoulders, and brought the both of them down into the wheat. "Shh, be quiet… We gotta be quiet!" Tony said as he tried to minimize Mayla's movements.

"They shot him!" She sobbed.

Tony ducked his head to get a clear view through the yellow-stalks. Four soldiers came over the hill with their guns in hand. Approaching the field they took their hands to their head-gear and toggled an electronic. It came to life through a life-less stream of beeps.

The children were only at the edge of the field - if the soldiers advanced any further they'd see them immediately. Their goggles swayed too and fro' and the constant buzz effervescing from them froze the children's hearts. Suddenly a fifth soldier came over the hill and yelled loudly, "Hey, get the fuck back here. We can't be seen!" The soldiers, hesitantly, retreated. One of them reported to the commander. The soldier was quickly chastised, "What were you doing?" The soldier lowered his head and shook it. The commander put his hands on his hips and looked back towards the orchid, "Help the others with the equipment. We're already behind schedule."

"Yes sir," the soldier nodded and disappeared over the hill. The commander stood where he was, perhaps to size up the city that lay only a mile or so away.

"What is he doing?" Mayla whispered. Tony put a finger to his lips, "I don't know."

The man held his pose, a strikingly normal looking figure. Not at all tall, but not at all short. Not fat, but not thin. A role for the perfect human body, the man fit the part. He stood strong, a culmination of everything emotive.

Then he spoke: "Why can I already sense the fear?" He shook his head once, twice, then turned around and left the hill-top.

The children waited longer, their bodies becoming damp with sweat. Tony broke the silence with a low voice, "I think I know who those people were… ghosts. My brother and dad always talk about 'em. They're perfect humans - they can do things with their minds and bodies no one else can. They can read minds. They - " "Let's get out of here, Tony. Please, let's just get out of here." Mayla was tugging at his sleeve.

Tony gave one more look to the hill, "We'll go to the police."

Mayla was shivering badly, but managed a nod, "They'll know what to do."

Tony began to turn his body around, "They always do. I mean… yeah. Okay." He gave one fleeting look over his shoulder, then turned to Mayla. They were now facing the city. She raised and lowered her head. There was a glimmer on her cheek. Tony lent a hand out and wiped the tear away, "Okay."

They ran.

------

The police station was nearly empty. Most of the officers had been assigned to the stationing military force. A nearly mandatory option, the reassignments left the police department under-manned. A receptionist sat at the front, and behind her sat a police officer typing away at his desk. The set was a hole of boredom, and its characters certainly looked not far from the part.

Tony and Mayla crashed through the door and collapsed into a bench. Tony stretched his body out, kicking his feet across the floor. Mayla lay across him, gasping for air. The receptionist, whose head was previously down scanning the news on her computer, raised an eyebrow to the disturbance, "May I help you two?"

Tony's eyes turned from the wall to the woman, "Killers." He coughed. The receptionist stood up and turned her back to the officer, "Mark! Mark, c'mere." The officer and woman jogged to the children.

The officer reached his hands out. Tony took one and stood up, Mayla lifting herself up with him. They stood together, then looked to one another. Tony lowered his head, then took a step forward, "We were out at the barley-field just out of town…"

"And…?" The officer bent his head lower and put a hand out to address a small scratch on Tony's forehead. The receptionist ducked back into her desk and picked up a phone.

"And there were some men out there. The kind that carry guns."

"Soldiers?"

Tony nodded, "Yeah, soldiers. They had the farmer. And then they shot him."

"Who are your parents, kids?" The receptionist asked from afar. The officer waved his hand at her, "Never mind that!" He turned to the kids, "When did this happen? Just now?"

The children nodded their heads in unison. Mayla sniffed her nose and wiped her eyes. Tony continued, "We ran back as soon as it happened. We… we thought they were gonna get us too." Tony felt his face tense up and soon he could no longer control his emotions. He fell to the ground and began to sob. Mayla joined him and the two attempted to console one another without success.

The officer watched them, trying to word something of encouragement. But he couldn't find the right thing to say. He stood up. "Shirley," he pointed to the woman, "Call up Dickins and Robinson. We're going to Hamlin's farm to investigate this. Tell them to meet me at the quarry ASAP, got me? I'll call in every five minutes, okay? If I ever miss a call-in, if for some god-forsaken reason you don't hear my voice, call the military. Tell them something strange is going on. That those damn bastards may be here, and we're not even ready for it. Got it?"

Shirley put the phone to her ear and began to dial the numbers. The officer adjusted himself and turned to the children, leaning down, "It's going to be okay. You kids will stay here with Shirley, she'll get a hold of your parents, okay? It'll be fine."

The officer stood up and walked towards the entrance. He crowed a hand out and snatched a hat from a hanger. Crowning himself, the man left the building with a sort of determined gusto.

Tony lifted his head from his knees and looked around, "Where'd he go? Where'd the officer go?"

"It's alright," the receptionist hung up her phone and waved the kids towards her. "He just went out to have a look-see, that's all."

Mayla's eyes widened. Tony's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"Now, let's have a talk. Let's talk with your parents, would that be nice?"

Mayla cried aloud and buried her face into Tony. The boy's lips trembled in an attempt to say something. Nothing came out and soon his vision was blurring. The woman disappeared momentarily, then returned with two cups of water. She lowered herself to the kids and offered the drinks, "Here, you guys look thirsty."

They drank clumsily, spilling the cups' contents all over themselves.

"Now, who are your parents?" The receptionist asked, offering a quiver of a smile.

Tony looked up, snorting and wiping his eyes, "I, I don't think my parents are home."

"Just give me their names," the woman said, her smile unfading.

Tony looked to her, then out at empty space, "I… I can't remember."

The woman pressed her lips together, frustrated and confused, then turned to Mayla, "And you? Who are your parents?"

Mayla, her face buried in Tony's shoulder, mumbled, "My parents are dead."

------

The receptionist had disappeared into the depths of the station while Tony and Mayla gathered themselves.

"What should we do?" Mayla asked, wiping her nose. Tony shook his head, then stood up, "I don't know." A slight buzz of noise began emanating from one of the backrooms. The children explored the noise, following its trail of clicks, clacks and thumping. They came upon a room - inside was a large table with a radio atop its counter. The receptionist sat at the table, holding one side of a pair of headphones to her right ear. Intelligible noise came from the other speaker:

First the sound of feet shuffling. Then came the noise of a communication mic bouncing about the floorboards of a car. A scream. Four gunshots. A blitz of noise as a great struggle took place. A knife was loudly pulled. Another scream. Someone began to gurgle.

Silence.

The receptionist's hand was shaking. After some time she lowered the headphones and tried to stand up. She knocked her chair over and then fell over it. Tony took a step into the room, then ran away as the woman began to scream. Mayla followed closely behind him. They left the station, fleeing into the street.

The city-bustle had a quicker tempo today. Soldiers ran wildly about, civilians retreated into their homes. A stray dog was in the middle of the street putting out a shrilly commentary to the madness at hand.

"What's going on?" Mayla asked, raising her voice over the rush.

"I have no idea," Tony responded. He grabbed Mayla's hand and, squeezing it, led her down the sidewalk. Together they dodged scrambling people, marching lines of soldiers, a business man who fell down in front of them, spilling his briefcase's contents all over the road.

Suddenly a tall man came upon them, "You children need to get out of here! Come with me!" He grabbed both of them, but Tony resisted, throwing his hand away. "C'mere!" The man yelled, struggling to hold onto Tony. "Let us go!" Mayla was now throwing a fit, too.

During the altercation Mayla was tossed to the ground. Tony screamed and threw both his fists into the man's groin. He screamed aloud, fell to his knees, then threw Tony to the pavement, "You fucking bitch!" The man cupped his groin and bent over gasping for air. Tony kicked the man in the head, causing him to yelp and tip over. Tony scrambled to Mayla and got her up, "Run!" They took off but the man reached out and got Tony by the foot and bringing him to the ground once more.

Mayla turned around, "Tony, look out!" The boy turned. Something dirty and brown filled his vision - the man bore down on him with his fist, turning Tony completely around and putting his face into the ground. Mayla screamed as the man got to his knees then snagged her, throwing the girl over his shoulder. He began walking down the sidewalk coolly, handling the girl's resistance without much trouble.

The girl screamed for help. "Shut the fuck, now!" The man growled, bumping a shoulder into Mayla. Suddenly there came a whooshing noise followed by a dull crack. Pieces of wood clattered to the sidewalk around the man and Mayla. The being groaned, wobbled, then fell to his knees. Mayla dropped off him and scooted away. There came another crack, a dull "Whump" this time as Tony brought the two-by-four against the man's back. The abductor mumbled something of pain, then fell to the ground unconscious.

Tony dropped the shattered wood. Mayla screamed and ran into him, knocking him to the sidewalk. Rejoined, they wept.

Then came the explosion. It was distant, very distant. However its echoes of destruction came over the city like the first cry from a young thunder storm. The children looked up and down the road. People paused in the streets, soldiers included, almost as if to give respect to the far-away segue. Two men carrying a case of ammunition looked to each other, their interlocking eyes signifying that it has finally happened. That this was real.

The realization spread like wild-fire as people began to scream and shout. Looting grew with the city-folk smashing shop windows and raiding their storages on every street corner. The two soldiers were approached by a madman who grabbed one of them by the jacket.

"Sir, step away!"

The man, dressed in dangly clothing and his face smeared with grime, took his hands off the soldier but then dug them into the crate he was carrying, "Give me some! Yes!" The soldier withdrew a pistol and aimed it, "Step-away!"

The loony took his hands out of the crate, opening his fingers up to drop handfuls of ammunition. Then, without reason, he suddenly went after the soldier. Together they toppled over in a rough struggle. The soldier's comrade now withdrew his gun and pointed it at an approaching small-mob, "Stay back!"

A woman cried out from the crowd, "How do you expect us to defend ourselves?"

The soldier disregarded the question, instead focusing on his buddy, "Tommy you okay? Tommy?"

"Yeah, fuck!" The soldier got rolled underneath the madman, who was now shrieking with his head towards the sky while he wailed on the soldier. Tony and Mayla had backed themselves into the outer-walls of a building. The situation unfolded before them and they took it in vicariously, completely unacknowledged by all those who took part. A picture of humanity's ugliness had its audience.

The loon suddenly brought his head down into the soldier, butting him with his skull. "Cole! Cole!" Tommy cried aloud. Cole came over and beat the madman over the head and flipped him off Tommy. Four people from the mob approached. Cole lowered his pistol at them and yelled for them to back off -- or else. A huge explosion rocked in the distance. A plume of fire and smoke rose into the air. The crowd surveyed the spectacle, then turned back to the ammo-case.

Cole laid down his directive, "These supplies are for the military of District-4A! Civilians are not to go near it and are not to touch it!" The madman was grinning behind Cole and Tommy (who was nursing a bashed nose). A woman shrieked.

The soldiers distracted, the madman brought a jagged blade into Tommy's thigh. The man howled and Cole swung his pistol around and fired it repeatedly. The sound was intense and brief -- a head lurched backwards and popped open. A body fell backwards and left an outstretched hand pointing to the crowd. For a brief moment there was total silence as the spent casings from Cole's pistol rolled to their stops. Then came the loud and violent protests. Rocks, profanity, and lewd hand-signals were thrown at the soldiers.

"Tommy, you okay?" Cole asked as he lent a knee to his comrade. The soldier nodded his head, grimacing as blood poured from his thigh - a small pool had developed, interlacing with the crimson of the insane. The crowd, which had thickened and lengthened, approached. Cole raised his pistol, "Step the fuck back now, goddammit!" But they kept coming. A man came out of nowhere, behind the soldiers, with a pistol raised. Mayla screamed. Cole looked to the girl, then his eyes shifted in his head as the bullet passed through. He fell to the ground, his body crashing into the ammo crate and rolling over. Tommy screamed and perforated the shooter's body with bullets. By now there was no stopping the lunacy of the situation. There was no stopping the pandemonium, the chaos. The dam broke.

The soldier was instantly swallowed up in the crowd, a scant gunshot evidence of his last existing moment. A few moments passed and the crowd extinguished. The soldier was still there, but he was clearly dead. Three other bodies lay about him.

Tony slowly got up and dragged himself to the street. He came upon the bodies. There was no distinguishing whose blood was whose. The boy, navigating the expansive red, turned a body over. There lay what he was looking for.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Mayla was behind him now. What sounded like a roll of thunder came from outside the city -- it was soon followed by successive explosions. Tony stared at what lay below him. Again, Mayla inquired, "Tony, what are you doing?" Her voice was scared now. The boy didn't know, and shook his head, "Maybe we'll need it."

Mayla, her body spent on crying and screaming, could only shake her head. She put a hand on Tony's shoulder. The boy looked towards the object awhile longer, then stood himself up. "Okay." Mayla smiled and twisted Tony away from the dead bodies, leading him back to the sidewalk. They sat down. Mayla leaned into Tony, asking, "Do you remember your parents now?"

The boy looked down the street. A person scrambled aimlessly across the road. Two people were going along the sidewalk bashing in the windows of any shops and vehicles that had been left untouched. Overall, the intersection was rather empty. His parents? Their existence totally escaped him.

Mayla sighed, "No, huh?" Tony nodded.

A minute passed. The looters had disappeared into a store. "Where should we go?" Mayla asked. Tony really had no idea, he just knew where not to go: "We have to avoid downtown."

There was a loud explosion in the distance followed by the screams of a large crowd. The wail of ambulances and firetrucks was now a constant back-drop to the carnage. Planes and helicopters were crashing up above. One pilot tried to evade destruction but failed to get away from the three or so enemy jets trailing him. His craft caught a missle in the fusealage and imploded, showering metal debris into the city. Here and there Tony and Mayla could see stiff lumps lying in the streets and on the sidewalks.

Frightened and disillusioned, the children were approached by a jeep which flew past them, hit the brakes to pull to a screeching halt, then reversed back towards them. Three soldiers were in it, one manning a large machine gun (to which he kept skyward). The passenger lent a hand out, "Come with us! Downtown is a terror, you can't go down there." The driver cocked his head over the mud-smattered windshield to get a look down the road, then turned to Tony and Mayla, "C'mon!"

The girl and boy locked hands, then lept into the jeep together. They sat next to the gunner, who was standing on a platform. Shell casings started to roll around once they got moving. Tony watched as a few of them got bumped off, sputtering into the blurring street. The jeep shook back and forth as the driver navigated between the effects of war which had taken a sloppy residence in the roads. The passenger turned back to them, "We're going to the country. That's where everyone's getting organized for a counter-attack. Where are your parents?" Tony shrugged, then when looked at by the soldier, so did Mayla. "Well... they're probably heading there too, I'm sure. We'll be in there in five, I promise."

Mayla tugged at Tony's shirt. The boy looked to her, then lent an ear. She whispered, "Isn't this the way to the quarry?" Tony lifted an eyebrow, then took a look around. It took a few moments to decipher the landmarks through their tarnished faces, but Mayla was right. They were going to be passing the quarry soon. Tony, heart racing, tapped the passenger, "Um, are we going to be passing the quarry?"

The soldier thought for a second, then nodded, "Yeah, why?"

Suddenly the driver slammed the brakes. The wheels screeched in resistance and rubber burned off in a choking smog. The passenger threw an arm onto Tony and Mayla to keep them from flying out. The gunner had nearly fallen off himself as his body was thrown to a side of the jeep, he held on only by his trigger hand, grasping the large machine-gun the best it could.

They came to a stop. Thick smoke sifted past and the engine sounded like it was being pelted with coins, its own being entirely spent. Just in front of the hood was a figure on the ground, crumpled and indistinguishable from all the others... except there was something bright, pink, and moving.

"A baby?" The passenger asked. The driver got out and walked towards it, "It's a baby!"

The gunner, trying to catch his breath, let himself fall to the street. He sat down and leaned himself against the jeep. Tony and Mayla looked to one another, confused. The boy mumbled, "We shouldn't go to the quarry..."

"Wait, wait a second..." The driver lowered himself to the figure. He pulled back the cloths to reveal, "It's... fake." He rose with a toy-baby in his hands, lifting it to the air, exclaiming, "It's fake!" The driver's body suddenly jerked at the chest. He growled and fell to the ground, the toy breaking on impact. "Manny!" The passenger leapt to his side. The children watched in horror as his shoulder blew apart, revealing bone and muscle. The man screamed and groped his wound, trying to keep the skin from detatching any further as it lay splattered on the asphalt. The gunner scrambled to his knees and looked over the jeep with just his eyes. A bullet whizzed past Mayla, tugging her hair into the air, and ricocheted off the jeep. The man yelped and ducked.

"Tony let's get out of here!" Mayla shrieked. The door from a building across the street burst open and men rushed out of carrying clubs and knives. Rifles were in the windows above. Tony could make out figures running to and fro in the rooms, perhaps going downstairs to join the mob. The passenger-soldier, letting his shoulder go, raised a pistol to the crowd, but before he could fire his head exploded into the street. Mayla screamed. Tony bailed her into the front seat of the jeep, shoving her underneath the glove department. The boy struggled to shift the jeep into gear. As the mob closed in his efforts became entirely random as he started to cry and scream, shoving the stick everywhich way and hitting every pedal he could.

The gunner had taken off across the road. As he neared a buliding its doors also flew open and out poured more to join the mob. The gunner was enveloped and there was a small stagnation in the crowd where clubs could be seen rising and falling. "Tony!" Mayla screamed. Now the mob was upon them, clacking the jeep with clubs, throwing knives, and trying to grab Tony. A club viciously hit his shoulder, emmanating a loud crack. The boy cried out and with his pain the jeep kicked into gear. It jumped, knocking a few of the crowd to the ground, then sped up. A man on the hood fell side-ward, his head getting smashed underneath a back tire. The crowd was furious, throwing clubs and knives at the jeep. The gunners in the windows, who had previously let the mob go at 'em, were now firing. A bullet hit the shaft of the machine-gun spinning the weapon around before it broke off the platform completely. A belt of ammo ripped off the jeep like a zipper, trailing after the wayward gun.

Tony swerved left and right dodging the creations of war, the second faces being sad products of unthinkable altercations. The boy's left shoulder was broken and the pain was amplified with every bounce and turn. Grimacing, Tony gripped the wheel and fought the pricking, dull feeling in his shoulder as best he could. Mayla crawled out of her space, slowly turning herself into the passenger seat. They passed a man who raised his arms and hailed them, pleading for them to stop. A family plodding along the sidewalk chased after them for a few moments before giving up.

Mayla groaned and gripped her stomach. This quickly caught Tony's attention, "Are you hurt?" The girl pulled her arm back. Tony couldn't feel his heart beat and his head buzzed in horror: Mayla's stomach was bleeding out. Her clothes were turning a dark red and the dirtied cloth rippled to the occasional blood spurt. "Cover it up -- put your hand on it!" Tony's vision was blurring, tears were flowing down his dirt-stricken face. He looked to Mayla. Her hair clung to her, draping over her quickly discoloring face.

The city passed them and now the road was getting bumpy. The quarry was coming. "It'll be okay, you'll be okay," Tony wiped his drowning eyes. A small pool of blood had formed in the design of the jeep's seat. It sloshed back and forth, sometimes spilling over the edges of the divot. Tony felt specks tickle his legs. In grief he shout furiously in resistance to their unwanted placing. Conditions worsening, the jeep started to sputter. And then it died, a crescendo of the combined parts muttering their failures. Tony didn't even try to start it back up, instead taking his shirt off, screaming as his shoulder ground its broken parts. "Hold this against it," he said, handing the shirt to Mayla. The boy got out and scrambled to her side, opening the door slowly. "Okay, okay..." He looked down the road to the quarry. At least fifty yards away, he could spot the hand rails to the stairs leading down it. Further on down was the blurry image of tanks and soldiers coming over a hill, backed by the booming ferocity of artillery. "C'mon, augh!" In an effort to pick Mayla up with both arms, Tony's shoulder nailed his body with messages of pain.

The boy shook his head, then tried again, lifting Mayla with one arm and putting him over her shoulder. The girl moaned and the boy could feel the warmth of her spilling down his back. Mayla was whispering something but Tony was struggling too much to hear. Suddenly, about fifteen yards away from the jeep, she screamed, "It hurts Tony! It hurts, please let me down, it hurts!" Tony frantically let her down. Her body hiccuped as she cried. Tony fell to his knees and shook his head, "We have to keep going."

Mayla couldn't, "I can't... it hurts too much. Tony... let's just sit here... rest..." Tony sat on his heels, letting his broken arm rest loosely. Tears laced his cheeks. He looked to the horizon where dust was filling the air, kicked up by the movements of a hideous beast. Tony looked to Mayla, "Do you remember before? Before all this?" The girl nodded. Tony continued, "I want to experience that again -- the time before all this. I want to know what a good day feels like... I... I want to remember! I want to remember again!" The boy shakily stood up. He cupsed his right arm underneath Mayla's head.

"Tony..."

"It'll be okay."

He put his left arm underneath her legs.

"It'll be okay."

He lifted. His left shoulder popped loudly, but the boy held his stance. His head vibrated as he grit his teeth. "It'll be okay!" He screamed through his pinched lips. A missle whistled over head and exploded in the city quickly followed by the rest of the barrage. Tony couldn't feel his shoulder anymore. The pain had reached an apex, then died off entirely, replaced by a dull feeling of nonexistence. Tony's pace towards the quarry picked up. The army in the distance was closing in, crushing the wheat-field underfoot.

"Do you remember sitting on the sidewalks? Taking candy from strangers?" Tony mildly tripped over a stone. Mayla groaned, but responded, "I do."

"You coming to my house and knocking on my window? Do you remember going to the markets and seeing all... all the blankets they had?" Tony sniffed. Mayla moaned.

"Do you remember the barley field?" Tony laughed, "And how it'd prick us? The apple orchid... how we'd steal that farmer's apples?"

Tony had been grinning, but it quickly faded. They were at the quarry steps. The boy looked down them -- they spiraled dizzily into a near-darkness. Mayla put her hand on his shoulder, "Do you remember your fear?"

Tony stared into the depths of the quarry. The crooked stairway swayed back and forth on an uneasy foundation. The bolts and nails whined in protest, perhaps a subtle warning. Tony looked to Mayla, "I don't know." His leg took a step forward. It fell on the first stair. He took another step. Another. His foot slipped on a cracked step, seeing Tony slide down a few more. Heart pounding, shoulder dulled, Tony reached the final base. Looking down the stairs to the firm ground of the quarry-bottom, Tony put his head to Mayla's.

The earth around them was starting to shake -- the stairway rattled nervously, loose bolts bouncing and bars clanking. Shouts of men, the growl of their machinery, the lack of subtlety in their intent; gone. Their was only one poignant truth -- a slippery and cold veridicality:

Mayla was dead.

Tony sat down and leaned his head against one of the railings. Machinery was now rumbling past, and the footfalls of soldiers began to echo their way down the quarry. The boy laid the girl across him and held on. The men were swooping down the stairs down, the business ends of their weapons holstered or swung to the air.

The boy leaned his head forward and whispered his epiphany, "I never wanted to remember -- remember anything but you." And then there was a yell, a blunt crack, and the boy fell aside, his last image the product of man's great evil.


End file.
